


Dancing Among The Irises

by GalaPyre



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Death, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Melancholy, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:18:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaPyre/pseuds/GalaPyre
Summary: What was Undertaker considering when he decided to use him dancing for his Dolls? Lets take a crack at Undertakers mind and consider what could of been.





	Dancing Among The Irises

Dancing Among The Irises. 

He smiles a wide mad grin as he grips the beautiful woman close to him. Her sweet face glows softly in the candle light. He gently brings her closer and caresses her frame. The draft of the room slightly swaying his hair, possibly a silver white but darkened with soot and grime. This man clear didn't quite look after himself it seemed, perhaps this lover of his wasn’t doing her job in making sure her man was well kept after? Her frame impossibly lean and frail, one would believe she was ill. The dingy room echoes with the steps of one and the rattles of bones the other. His beautiful woman was once alive long ago, perhaps she simply can not comfort her lover now that she has passed. A sway of his steps and a sigh left his lips. No one quite understands his guests like he does. Their sweet voices remain in his mind, he's never met a guest he has not talked to when they were still alive. In his mind they truely still are alive. His hand gently cups the woman's bone face as he smiles sweetly to her. He could still remember her sweet smile, the gentle twinkling of her eyes.  
Why should someone lose their value and beauty after they pass? Is it the humans horror of death? Or perhaps the memory was never pleasant to begin with?  
He chuckles and tilts his head to the ring of the shop door. Oh it appears customers await. More guests for him? He's been awful lonesome for quite a while and time sure does make one starved for companionship. He grins widely setting down the beautiful woman, tilting his hat at her silent figure. Their dance can always wait for later after all. The echoes of the Undertaker steps in the Parlor have the poor customers quaking in their boots. He can't help but chuckle at the poor detectives. They didn't much like him and his shop, they did respect him however and they bring the most lovely guests. He spends time talking to them , an offer of biscuits and a beaker of tea as always. They have become comfortable enough to accept his tea at the very least. He frowns listening to the grievance and negativity as he always does. Humans don’t really change do they? They rise patting down their wool coats and cotton shirts, a necessity in this dust infected shop of his. He grins into the dark as they leave, closing the creaking old door, oh my it seems he has quite a few new guests.... what shall he do with these lovely creatures?  
He laughs wildly at the thought. Oh how he could dance in their minds for eternity! He pauses at the random thought, tapping a finger to the door frame. Hmm he very well could couldn't he?

 

His idea was a fine one in his opinion. Stepping down the creaking rotten wood steps to the hidden basement of his so called little parlor. Oh if only they knew just how big this parlor truly was. Would they be terrified? Concerned? Worried? He chuckles to himself in the dusty damp seemingly empty room. They wouldn't be alive to find out. He wondered what it would be like to make one of his Dolls with their souls intact. His Dolls always sought a soul for their own desires. Holding out the candelabra to gently caress his art works with the faintest of glows. His very favorite lays here. Her sweet dark licorice hair and fine sharp features. They truly suit her even in death. He sighs deeply, "oh how tragic life truly is, how short ones life is... they never truly enjoy it do they?" He murmurs before walking away. His echoing heels are the last thing they will hear for a grand while. He has a plan in mind for them~ his laughter sounds as the loud creak and slam of a heavy wooden door and the sharp clinking of chains seams to echo his intentions. What a shame it would be for laughter to disappear. For one may not realize laughter is so very close to grief.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys are interested in me making this a story just let me know , or I might just keep this as a one shot. I haven't decided yet.


End file.
